


October Prompts and Drabbles

by Captain_Dogfish



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Monsters on the Surface, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap AU, Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 15,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Dogfish/pseuds/Captain_Dogfish
Summary: Following the prompt list by SheeWolf85 on Tumblr, all themed to Halloween/Fall. Chapter titles are the prompts, let's see how many I manage!





	1. Night

Edge is well aware that he is supposed to be asleep.

Clearly he isn’t, though, and he’s never been one to just lay in bed and hope for sleep. No, he gets up like he always does and heads downstairs for the living room. Maybe he can get some more work done, exhaust himself with some more paperwork--

He’s in the living room doorway before he remembers he doesn’t have paperwork anymore, or even a desk of his own. 

The evidence of that fact is sleeping on the couch. Whereas Edge had to give up the name Papyrus upon landing in this universe, Rus only sacrificed half the title--and which half depended on the day. His Sans, nicknamed Blue, had a habit of calling his elder brother Papy as well. So, Papy (or Rus) it was, and meanwhile Edge was over here learning to respond to a one-syllable name that didn’t feel like his, sound like his, or even start with a letter from his real name. It was, as Red might put it (and Edge hated that nickname, too, but Red didn’t care so it stuck), “some grade-a bullshit.”

Anyway. Rus is on the couch, sleeping, and for a moment Edge is offended that another Papyrus could sleep the night away. When he reminds himself that this is the ass-backwards universe, not the normal one, he’s offended that Rus gave up his bedroom for Edge and took the couch when, clearly, Edge will be getting far less use out of a mattress than his counterpart. 

There are many things Edge could do in this situation and nearly all of them involve ignoring the lanky skeleton on the couch. It’s the wee hours of the morning. Nobody is awake except him, and he can go back to bed before Blue wakes up. Not a soul would know if Edge did nothing, and not a soul would expect him to do anything.

In stony silence, Edge unfolds the blanket on the back of the couch and drapes it over his counterpart. Rus doesn’t react, not even when Edge tucks the blanket in. After a brief moment to inspect his work, Edge silently pads out of the room. He’s not tired, but he heads back up to Rus’s room anyway. Even if he doesn’t sleep, he’ll need his rest if he wants to win the fight against Blue to sleep on the couch from now on. 

The living room is still and silent in his wake. Faintly, the faint _ click _ of a door closing can be heard.

Rus opens his eyes. For a long moment he stares suspiciously up the stairs. Then, after a long moment, he sighs, snuggles down beneath the blanket, and closes his eyes.


	2. Fangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I've read too much SpicyHoney to ever write Undertale fan-fiction about the two of them and NOT ship them.

Here’s the thing Rus can’t get used to: the fangs.

Seriously. His counterpart would look vicious enough without those throat-ripping chompers of his. It’s unnerving enough to look at this (cracked, broken, warped) mirror of himself and catalog all the ways his personality and opinions would change if he was born in a different universe, but it’s downright alarming to think those changes could result in him looking physically different. Tougher, crueler, more dangerous.

The thought won’t leave him alone. He stares at Edge’s fangs a lot. Too much, apparently.

“He’s gonna notice ya,” Red drawled one evening, maybe a month after the two of them ended up trapped here. “Yer being super obvious.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Rus asks, idly interested but mostly confused. 

“Ya keep staring at Boss like ya want to kiss him.” Red’s eyelights sparkle with what Rus would identify as malice and what Red would claim is humor. “He’s gonna notice. Probably already has.”

Rus splutters, trying and failing to come up with a scathing retort. He ends up saying, “I--what--no!”

Red smirks at that truly devastating reply and turns his attention back to whatever show Blue left playing on the TV when he and Edge went to get various movie night snacks from the kitchen. It’s no use pressing him for answers; Rus can tell Red’s said all he plans to say on the subject, at least for the time being. That doesn’t mean Rus can’t sit there and stew about it. He’s not sulking. No. He’s not.

Rus barely notices when the other two return, and maybe he could have gotten away with pretending the conversation didn’t happen if Edge hadn’t started eating popcorn. Rus was staring at Edge’s fangs yet again before he even consciously decided to look at his counterpart. Seriously, what was up with the fangs? It was some serious overkill to use those things on popcorn. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Rus saw Red’s shiteating grin get bigger than ever. Ostensibly talking about whatever’s playing on TV, he says, “Great show, huh?”

Blue gushes his agreement immediately, but Rus knows who that comment was really meant for. It seems Edge does too; nothing else could explain the way he suddenly makes eye contact with Rus and, very deliberately and slowly, eats another piece of popcorn. 

Let it not be said that the Fell skeletons don’t ever offer mercy; neither of them commented on Rus’s sudden blush, or the way he huddled into his sweatshirt and glued his eyes to the television for the remainder of the evening.


	3. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know others think Edge knits, but I say he crochets because I crochet and that means I can write about it.

Edge might have his panties in a twist over not being in their universe anymore, but Red rather likes it, and near the top of his list of reasons why is this whole being on the Surface thing. It took a bit of adjusting, but Red’s used to it now. He didn’t think much would surprise him, but the first shift in weather took his breath away.

That first rainstorm he stood outside in the downpour, luxuriating in cool, fresh water drumming down on his body while Edge stood guard nearby. They’d give each other the world if they could, but most of the time it’s enough when they can offer each other protection to partake in their interests. Stars know Red’s followed behind Edge like a guard dog when his bro used to go foraging for whatever wild foods managed to grow Underground (the better to experiment in the kitchen with, stretching their meager rations to something edible and even tasty), and there were a lot of nights he sat up to keep watch while Edge tried to crochet his stress away after a bad, LV-fueled day.

Here’s the thing about universe variations between their worlds; they’ve all got their obsessive interests, but no two are exactly alike. Edge has his old-lady hobbies; Blue is all about exercise and health; Stretch is kind of a freak with mathematics, especially when it comes to calculating stars-knows-what relating to space; and Red is mesmerized by the weather, the more extreme the better.

Today’s rainstorm is pretty mild, all things considered. There’s no thunder, no lightning, and Red has seen enough of them now that he doesn’t always go stand in the rain. No, he’s taken to swinging open the back door to sit in the doorway and watch. Edge doesn’t even have to stand guard nearby anymore when he enjoys the rain like this.

He does, though. Kind of.

“Sure you’re keeping watch?” Red asks, not bothering to look at his brother. Edge is sitting in a chair (“I’m not a heathen” he snarled when Red told him to sit on the floor with him) crocheting...something. Red doesn’t know what. Whatever it is, it’s involved Edge tearing out rows and rows of work in frustration on more than one occasion.

“Yes,” Edge replies absently, and when Red glances at his brother to see if he’s really become that bad at lying he finds Edge silently counting stitches, utterly absorbed in his work. It’s the most relaxed he’s seen Edge in literal years.

Neither of them will admit it to each other, but keeping watch here just isn’t as necessary as it is back in their old world. Old habits die hard, and although they can’t say it, keeping watch these days seems to mean keeping each other company more often than not.

“Fifteen,” Red calls out, doing his damnedest to ignore the soft feelings that sight evoked. His brother deserves the world and Red would give it to him in an instant if he could, but they are brothers still and Red isn’t about to stop being an asshole just because necessity no longer demands it. “Thirty. Forty-four. Nine. Two hundred. Twenty-one, Twenty-two, twenty-nine, fifty, fifty-one.”

Edge cusses him out for that, having to go back and recount his stitches, but he doesn’t leave. Neither of them do, and they won’t until the rain ends and this quiet moment pops like a bubble and sends them back into their usual routines. 

Red hopes the storm lasts all afternoon.


	4. Walking Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the Annoying Dog!  
Also, just in case anybody might be sensitive to it, there's a brief (one sentence) reference in this to a previous pet that passed away.

Blue hates the Annoying Dog and he’ll be the first to tell you that.

It’s underfoot all the time, it begs at the table, it sheds everywhere and gets into things and is generally a nuisance at all points of the day or night. Blue didn’t want the dog, either, that was Rus’s idea, Blue just got roped into caring for this Dog He Does Not Love because Rus wouldn’t take the stupid thing for a walk.

(He does not love the Annoying Dog, he’ll tell you, because he just doesn’t like dogs. This is not true. Blue and Rus had a different, Not-Annoying Dog before they reached the Surface, one that fell into the Underground several years ago and unfortunately passed away a few years before Monsters were freed. Blue loved that dog. This one feels too much like a replacement, but Blue will not admit that.)

The Dog That Blue Does Not Love is currently being showered in affection by a few of the local kids. Blue’s convinced it looks smug as comments of, “who's a good boy? You are!” rain down on all sides. Annoying creature.

Still, he doesn’t hurry the kids up or drag the dog away. Nor does Blue cut the walk short even though he has many other responsibilities to get to today. By the time he’s back, everybody else is up and doing their own thing, and as such, nobody is there to witness Blue making himself a late breakfast. With company.

“This is not for you,” he scolds the dog as he cooks eggs and sausage. “This is for me.”

The Annoying Dog annoyingly whines. It’s a very annoying sound.

“Hush,” Blue says. “I make the rules because I have thumbs and you do not, so don’t bother whining about it.”

Blue eats his breakfast in silence, doing his best to ignore the begging puppy-dog eyes directed at him. It mostly works. Not entirely.

Blue’s last bite of sausage and eggs ends up in the Annoying Dog’s food bowl. “I don’t like you,” Blue says, although anybody (including the dog) can tell he doesn’t truly mean it. “Don’t get used to this.”

The Annoying Dog acts like it will get used to this.


	5. Falling Leaves

Edge never once kept his crochet hobby a secret. It would have been impossible, considering how quick he was to rebuild a yarn stash after settling into this universe. Neither Rus or Blue teased him about the hobby, although Red did. Then again, Red has been teasing Edge for his “old lady hobby” for several years and it would be weirder if he didn’t tease.

His most recent project--a hat and scarf set--are inspired by the colors of the falling leaves. The surface is more beautiful than Edge could ever have imagined, and with yarn in every color available to him, he’s quick to make things that are just as pretty as they are functional, mimicking the colors of the world around him, but he’s determined to get it right.

Edge is staring up at the trees when Rus teleports to his side. The only reason Edge doesn’t reflexively attack is because Rus’s teleports make the same sound as Red’s, and Edge has long ago grown used to Red appearing without warning. “Whatcha doing?”

“Looking at the colors,” Edge replies, squinting a little. His damaged eye is bothering him more than usual today. “I want to make sure I have them right for my next project.”

“Why don’t you bring some leaves inside?”

“They don’t look the same when they aren’t in the sunlight.”

“Take a picture?”

“Colors might not be accurate.”

“Okay. Just stand there and stare at them, then.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Rus laughs, even though Edge doesn’t think he’s said anything funny. “What are you making this time?”

“A scarf, I think. Maybe a hat.”

“Going to replace the one you’ve got?”

“No,” Edge says, touching the scarf in question. It’s soft and worn with age, the edges ragged. He’s incredibly lucky to still have it after getting pulled out of his universe. It could have been left behind; it makes him sad to even think about it. “This was a gift.”

Rus hums and doesn’t ask any more questions. He doesn’t leave, either. Or as either he or Red might put it, “leaf.” They stand together in companionable silence until Edge is satisfied that he’s memorized the colors and doesn’t need to come back.

Then again, if he had company again next time, he wouldn’t mind a return trip.


	6. Pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next prompt will continue this little bit of story!

Rus is a fan of this pumpkin thing so long as he doesn’t have to get involved. Actually, the perfect way to incorporate pumpkin into his life is through a pumpkin-spice something. Coffees, candles, you name it. Rus doesn’t care. Just drown him in pumpkin-spice and call it good. He’s fine with that.

He’s not so fine with the way Blue has chosen to incorporate pumpkin into his life, which is by cheerfully gutting a pumpkin at the kitchen table. There is no spice involved, only pumpkin guts and a lot of knives. To Rus and his single digit of HP, it looks alarmingly dangerous.

“Be careful!” he squeaks when Blue grabs blindly for a knife for the third time.

“It’s fine, Rus!” Blue says, beaming at him. There is a glob of pumpkin innards on his skull. “Carving pumpkins is a human tradition!”

“Do humans have any fall traditions that don’t involve knives?” Rus asks, staring with wide eyes as Blue begins carving into the pumpkin with gusto.

“Don’t be such a wimp, ya baby,” Red says from his own side of the table. Red opted, not for knives, but a variety of bone attacks in different sizes. He’s been meticulously carving for a while now. “We don’t even bleed and he’s got the HP to take a little nick. Hell, I got the HP to take a little nick, and I’ve got as much HP as you!”

As if to prove this, Red holds up one scarred hand to show the various nicks and scratches littering his bones. Rus is not reassured.

“How about we just pay attention when grabbing a knife, huh?” Rus coaxes. “Please?”

“Edge!” Red shouts, and as if by magic Edge appears behind Rus, who startles in surprise. How Edge can just appear so quickly and quietly without teleporting is one of the great mysteries of the world. “Take this idiot away before he has a heart attack.”

“Come on,” Edge says, gesturing for Rus to lead the way out of the kitchen. His eye-lights sparkle mischievously. “I know a human tradition that doesn’t involve knives.”


	7. Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I might have shifted tense at some point, so if some of it is present tense and some is past, I apologize and will most likely edit it.

“You know boss,” Red says, rubbing the back of his neck. “When I told ya to take Rus out someplace, I was thinking coffee.”

“Then you should have said that,” Edge scolded, carefully arranging a spare set of his clothes on the plastic skeleton in the yard. He’d already wrapped a new red scarf around its neck, not to mention drawn on scars (he doubted breaking out a bone attack to really do some damage to the plastic skeleton would help Rus’s nerves when it came to sharp objects, never mind his sanity when he caught Edge mauling another skeleton). “You wanted him out of the kitchen, I got him out of the kitchen.”

“Ya,” Red said, surveying what had formerly been the front yard. “But I think ya mighta gone overboard with the decorations.”

“Blame Rus,” Edge said dispassionately. “He’s the one who had this idea.”

Red believes it, because decorating the yard for Halloween so it looked like a graveyard, complete with four plastic skeletons dressed in their clothes propped against fake tombstones with their (nick)names was absolutely something he would have done. He already couldn’t wait to see the faces on the human kids who come trick or treating, see the spooky scary skeletons out front, then end up face to face with the living variety.

<strike>He was not thinking about swapping his plastic skeleton out and taking its place Halloween night, no he wasn’t.</strike>

“Where is the nervous nancy anyway? Ya leave him at the store?”

“Hardly,” Edge scoffed. “Last I heard, he was heading to the shed to, and I quote, ‘whip something up real quick.’” Edge makes air quotes with his fingers as he speaks. “It’s been over an hour, he might have fallen asleep.”

Red hummed in agreement. Then, abandoning the newly finished jack-o-lanterns he was supposed to be putting by the door, he teleports out back to the shed.  
Rus was not hard to find and was not, in fact, asleep. Instead he's tinkering with a small machine. “Whatcha got?”

Rus waves the machine in excitement. “Portable fog machine! I can pop these up all around the yard to make it extra spooky! And they’ll be really easy to _mist_ because of how little they are.”

Red snickers at the pun as he eyes the little device. <strike>Fog would be some good cover if he decided to take the place of the plastic skeleton at the tombstone with his name on it. Not that he was going to do that, of course.</strike>

“Nice,” Red said. “Put one by my grave, it’s closest to the walkway. The kids’ll walk through the fog, it’ll be a cool effect.”


	8. Haunted House

“Deep breaths,” Blue said encouragingly, patting Red gently on the back even as he mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done. “That was a very impressive reaction! I think you scared the chainsaw guy back!”

“He had it coming,” Red gasped, still shaking from lingering fear and adrenaline. “What kind of sick freak _enjoys_ haunted houses, huh?”

Blue keeps quiet on that, since he rather enjoys them, and he doesn’t want Red to know that. He might get suspicious of Blue’s two goals for this evening, especially considering this outstanding success. Hastily, just in case Red is catching on, he redirects Red’s attention. “Look, Edge and Papy are coming over!”

“Enjoy yourselves?” Edge asked, arching a brow bone. Red flips him off. Somehow, although he didn’t have a scarf before Red and Blue went into the haunted house, Rus has ended up with a scarf in all fall colors around his neck. It looks suspiciously like the scarf Edge was working on a few days ago.

“Red has very impressive reflexes!” Blue announces, temporarily dismissing the mystery of Rus’s new scarf. He’ll get to the bottom of that later. “The guy with the chainsaw barely had a chance to scare us before Red made a wall of bones and teleported us both out of there!”

Edge’s other brow bone rose at that, idle amusement changing over to something akin to surprise. “Chainsaw?”

“Why do you think I decided to stay out here?” Rus said, sympathetic but clearly thrilled to not be the only one to ever teleport out of a haunted house in fear. Last year, Blue remembered, Rus only made it up to a room that was set up like a murder scene, complete with knife wielding maniac, before teleporting clear.

He’d left Blue behind, was the thing, unlike Red. One of Blue’s yearly goals for attending a haunted house was “scare Rus into teleporting” and this year, sadly, Rus had caught on to that and refused to enter the haunted house. Thankfully, though, he hadn’t let Red in on the goal, which was the only reason Blue had succeeded this year.

He just wished Red hadn’t been so polite and taken him to “safety” as well. Next year already wasn’t looking too good based on Red’s reaction, unless Blue wanted to spend a lot of time psyching Red up for the event. He’d think about that later.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Blue said, figuring Red would want to replenish his magic reserves. See, he’s nice like that. Plus there’s still a chance for a new record, two teleports away from something scary in one night, if Blue talks either Rus or Red into the haunted hayride. “Then maybe we can go play some of the carnival games they have.”

His other goal, one nobody else had learned of yet, would be much harder. Once Red and Rus both settled down a bit they’d go back to messing around--and then it would be a matter of time before Blue would have to interfere to keep either of them from singing “spooky scary skeletons” or whatever that song was for the umpteenth time this month already.


	9. Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some tooth-rotting fluff and sweetness?

Edge was Captain of the Royal Guard in his world and, as such, is skilled in strategy. A master of it, actually, and he has plenty of experience in laying traps and baiting them appropriately. If he decides to do something, neither hell nor high water can stand in his way. Few were smart enough to evade him.

Rus was either a very, very clever skeleton to avoid Edge’s traps thus far, or he was exceptionally lucky. Or maybe just oblivious. That’s a likely option as well, probably the most likely if Edge is being honest with himself, which he’s not. He’s certain his traps are foolproof and Rus is doing far too much to discredit him of that notion.

It’s movie night again, or at least it’s about to be. Blue’s picking out a movie, Red’s lurking somewhere, and Rus is sprawled sideways in an armchair in the living room waiting patiently and calling out movie suggestions to his brother.

Of course, Edge had put a pile of blankets on that chair so nobody (especially Rus) would select that chair right away. He’d also baited his trap (the table next to the small couch, which Blue called a loveseat, and boy was Red having fun with that name when Edge enlisted his help with this plan) with Rus’s favorite snacks and even a bottle of honey.

Edge thinks maybe he should have put down something a little more uncomfortable, like legos or six inch spikes, to keep Rus off the armchair. It’s his favorite spot, after all, and blankets were hardly a deterrent. Now he’s going to have to figure out how to get Rus onto the <strike>loveseat</strike> small couch.

“Rus, why don’t you see if Edge needs help with anything?”

Of all the unlikely saviors, he was not expecting Blue. Rus groans comedically, whining about being too comfy to move, but rolls out of the chair and gets to his feet. Edge only has a moment to sneakily appreciate the view of his sweatshirt riding up his spine before Rus pulls it back down and Edge looks elsewhere.

“What do you need?” Rus asks.

“I’m all set, I’m just getting the drinks now.”

Rus’s eyelights seem to light up and sparkle as he asks, “Do you have honey?”

“On the end table by the couch,” Edge says, internally screaming because he can’t deny that Rus clearly missed the honey and snacks he’d already set out. Rus is just that oblivious, Edge can no longer call his plans foolproof. It’s a devastating blow.

Rus teleports back to the living room, where he plops down on the <strike>loveseat</strike> smallest couch and takes a gulp of honey, already picking at the snacks. Edge hastily carries out the rest of the drinks, dumping them with uncharacteristic carelessness on the coffee table. Suddenly that devastating blow to his planning abilities doesn’t seem so bad, since it all worked out anyway.

Red makes himself useful at long last by teleporting into the armchair stacked with blankets, then tossing wadded up bundles of blankets at the others while complaining about having to do “all this freaking work to watch a damn movie.”

Edge and Rus end up with the largest blanket, thanks to Red’s help, and Edge is quick to spread it across both their laps. Blue starts the movie and kills the lights. Then, in the dark, Edge springs his trap.

Rus is giggling before Edge even finishes the “yawn and stretch” maneuver, his cheeks dusted the most perfect shade of gold Edge has ever seen as Edge’s arm falls across Rus’s shoulders. Edge’s own cheeks feel a little hot, but he ignores that. He can see Red’s shoulders shaking as he suppress what is clearly a laugh, and he ignores that too.

(Later, Red laughs at him as he says, “you turned _pink_ boss, _pink._)

“Is this okay?” Edge murmurs, careful to keep his voice low so nobody else hears.

Rus’s reply is to lean into Edge’s side, draping his arm across Edge’s midsection in a gentle hug. “This is good,” he whispers back.


	10. Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, with a prompt called "angst" you know it has to be sad.

Rus winces as Edge slams the bedroom door so hard it seems like the walls shake from the force. Red merely sighs and mumbles something about getting a drink before teleporting away, leaving Rus and Blue alone in the kitchen.

“Well,” Rus says. “That went well.”

It’s been two days since Red and Edge ended up here in this world, and in those two days it’s been chaos between keeping the peace between everybody and working endlessly on the busted machine that caused this issue in the first place. Rus’s has always been little more than twisted, half-melted scrap metal; apparently Red’s was in much better condition when he turned it on. Neither of them have schematics or blueprints, and Red claims his machine is entirely different from Rus’s.

Long story short, there was no fixing the stupid thing and getting Red and Edge home.

Edge seems to be taking it the worst.

“You’d think they’d be happy about not going back to murder-ville,” Rus grumbles, fishing for the pack of cigarettes he’s had in his pocket for the last 48 hours straight.

Blue snatches the packet out of his hand before he can even open it. “I thought you quit!” he scolds.

Rus doesn’t bother responding, just sighs and resigns himself to sneaking out to the corner store later for a new pack. It’s not worth fighting Blue right now, not when he can see his bro’s as stressed as he is. Rus is already wondering how sharing the house with these new permanent roommates of theirs is going to work when they’re already a bed short and Rus is sleeping on the couch.

From upstairs, there’s the distinct sound of something breaking. Blue gives Rus a very pointed Look.

“I’ll talk to him,” Rus groans, dragging his feet a little as he heads upstairs. He’s too worn out to even teleport right now. He knocks politely on his bedroom door. “Edge? It’s me. Can I come in?”

No response. Rus tries the door and finds it unlocked.

Well, the lamp seems to be the only casualty thus far. Edge is seated on the edge of the bed, head hanging. He doesn’t look up when Rus enters, nor does he so much as twitch when Rus sits on the bed next to him. For several long minutes, neither of them speak. Rus breaks the silence. “Why do you want to go back?”

Edge shrugs. “It’s home,” he says, his voice quiet and rough.

Rus waits.

His voice breaking, Edge adds, “I just want my cat back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, mostly because I cried while writing it, somewhere down the line I'm going to pull some Plot Magic and get the cat back.


	11. Sing

Red is mortally offended at how often Blue wins when they play cards. It’s an affront to his reputation, an assault on his dignity, and it’s twice as painful because freaking _Baby Blue_ is kicking his ass on a weekly basis.

Thankfully they don’t play for money, because Red would be dirt poor at this point if they did. No, Blue came up with this reverse-betting thing where they try to bet away the extra chores for the week, and that’s the story for how Red got to this point, dusting the living room.

It would be less awful if Edge hadn’t poked his head in to, quote, “witness this miracle for myself.” 

The worst part? He's got one of those extend-a-duster things so he can reach all the places he'd normally skip on the grounds of not being able to reach. He looks like some kind of suburban asshole with this thing in hand; next thing you know, he'll go full native and get a reaching claw for grabbing things off high shelves, and then Edge will have to kill him to put him out of his misery. 

At least there’s music.

Not music he’ll admit to liking, of course. It’s country music (because Blue is secretly a sadist, Red thinks, and wants him to suffer as much as possible) but this one is a classic--unlike all the other pseudo-country pop songs that have played already-- and he’s singing along without really thinking about it.

“‘_Cause I’ve got friends in low places_  
_ Where the whiskey drowns_  
_ and the beer chases my blues away_  
_ And I’ll be okay_  
_ Yeah I’m not big on social graces_  
_ Think I’ll slip on down to the oasis_  
_ Yeah I got friends in low places_!”

This whole cleaning the house thing really is less tedious with music playing, even awful music Red can't admit to liking (he's got a reputation, dammit), and by the end of the chorus Red is nearly dancing around the room. He's almost having a good time, but at least he’s not so far gone that he’s going to use the duster as a microphone.

Yet.


	12. Isolation

Blue has seen Rus to do this all too often before. Something catches his attention, Rus claims he’s just looking into it a bit, trying to get a read on it, and then he’s on a multi-day self-isolating research binge that stops for nothing.

This one is a doozy, mainly because it involves that awful machine in the basement. Full repairs are impossible, that much has been determined, but Rus--apparently--isn’t going for full repairs. He’s aiming for a one-off event of some kind, a quick peak between the universes, and it has consumed his time and attention to the point Blue is not certain his brother has slept any more than Edge recently. Considering Edge only needs about three hours of sleep per night to function, but Rus needs a good eight or nine, Blue’s simply biding his time until Rus collapses.

In the meantime, Blue’s alone as well, sitting at the kitchen table playing solitaire. Edge is making a trip to the library, because apparently he’s already finished the three books he checked out earlier this week, and Red is playing a video game in the other room. Blue had asked if he wanted to play cards, but Red point-blank refused.

The basement door is propped open for Blue to eavesdrop on Rus. It’s been quiet for a while now, but Blue knows better than to intrude just yet. Quiet usually means Rus is buried up to his eye sockets in equations of some kind, not passed out like Blue’s waiting for, and until then--

Ah. Good timing. Rus’s frustrated groan is all the signal Blue needs to know he’s stuck on some problem or the other. Predictably, there’s a squeaking sound as he leans back in his chair, most likely draping an arm over his sockets in melodramatic fashion. It’s his signature “this problem is frustrating me and I can’t even look at it anymore” position. It’s also the position he tends to fall asleep in most often while working.

Taking his time (because once Rus falls asleep he’s not going anywhere), Blue finishes his card game. The silence from the basement is more complete--the little noises of pen on paper are gone, as are the (frustrated) mumblings of Rus talking to himself.

The basement stairs creak, but Blue doesn’t bother dodging the noisy spots. Rus, as predicted, is out like a light. There’s an absurd number of empty coffee mugs littering his desk, and more than a few bags of takeout from Muffet’s bakery. A quick estimate of the amount of sugar and caffeine Rus has consumed over the last few days suggests that Rus is experiencing a crash of epic proportions; if he wakes up at all in the next fourteen hours, Blue will be astonished.

Despite their difference in height, Blue has no issue carrying Rus back up the stairs. Red glances over when Blue passes through the living room, rolls his eyelights at the sight of Rus’s unconsciously clinging to Blue in his sleep, and goes back to his video game without comment.

It’s fifty-fifty if Rus goes back to the basement after he wakes up sometime tomorrow. Undoubtedly he’ll reach some kind of breakthrough on his project after a good night’s rest--Blue’s been lecturing his brother about how healthy habits and living results in better brain function to no avail for years, but he keeps reminding Rus all the same--but there’s an excellent chance he’ll stay out of the basement for a few days and rejoin society. Especially, Blue thinks wryly, if Edge is involved.


	13. Underwater

Red can bitch and moan all he wants about this universe making him and Edge (especially Edge) soft, but Edge can’t hear him over the sound of hot water filling the tub for a bath. And yes, he’s added a gratuitous amount of bubble bath, because life is short and self-care is important. Besides, Blue buys the good bubble bath that’s lightly infused with healing magic for the ultimate relaxation experience; every spring-green bubble eases tension out of Edge’s bones and dulls even the most persistent aches, including the throbbing in his skull from his damaged socket.

That last complaint is the reason Edge started indulging in these “pamper-fests” (as Red calls them). It didn’t take long for Rus to wriggle the truth from him about how often the socket pains him, especially in bright light, and after that it seemed like no time at all before Blue pulled him aside to discuss the merits of unwinding.

“It’s an important part of any healthy lifestyle,” Blue lectured, giving Edge a very pointed Look. Blue has perfected giving Looks. Even Red will do what he’s told when given the Look. Edge will have to take notes.

Edge was easily convinced (he really wanted to be convinced if he’s honest with himself--unwinding was not an option back in his world when he needed to be ready for action at a moment’s notice) and, as such, is now catching up on a lifetime of not taking good care of himself. It’s delightful.

Up until something like this happens, of course.

Red teleports into the bathroom, because he has no standards, common sense, or decency. “This is all your fault!” he hisses.

Edge raises one brow bone, unimpressed. “Can I help you?”

“Blue’s trying to get me to take a bath!” Red snarls, kicking the door in frustration. “He won’t leave me alone about it! He says I need to relax or some shit!”

“It’s clearly not working,” Edge mutters, sinking down into the water a bit. Maybe if he floods his skull he won’t have to listen to his brother’s bullshit and Red will magically go away. “And you decided to interrupt me why, exactly?”

“You gotta tell him to knock it off!” Red says, gesturing wildly. “I don’t want to take a bath!”

“You sound exactly like a three year old,” Edge says, closing his eyes. “Put on your big boy pants and tell him yourself, I’m busy.”

Red makes an inarticulate noise of rage and lunges forward. He does not, as Edge expects, attempt to strangle Edge. Instead, he turns the water on icy cold.

It takes all of three seconds for Edge to turn it off, but by then his luxuriously warm bath is ruined and Red is ducking out of the bathroom and running back downstairs, cackling madly. Edge grimly gets out of the tub and wraps a towel around his hips. This won’t take long.

Whether either Rus or Blue ever recover from the sight of Edge storming into the living room--dripping water and bubbles everywhere despite the towel--to seize his brother in a headlock and drag him upstairs to the bathroom is up for debate. Certainly they did not recover in time to save Red before he was forced, kicking and screaming, into the bath fully-clothed.

It’s not quite as soothing as his hot bath would have been, but Edge finds it oddly enjoyable nonetheless.


	14. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, has anybody not written absolute fluff for this prompt?

Rus has a standing invitation to cuddle with Edge during movie nights, but recently his cuddling privileges have been expanded to include whenever Edge is reading a book on the couch.

He’s pretty sure this afternoon’s cuddle session is secretly a plot to keep him away from his research in the basement and make him rest, but Rus is okay with that. He’s crammed between Edge and the back of the couch, toasty warm thanks to the blanket covering them both, and he’s got the world’s most soothing lullaby playing in the form of Edge’s heartbeat.

Well, soul-beat, if Rus wants to be technically correct about it, but it’s the same basic principle and calling it a heartbeat is easier for everybody. Rus researched it at one point, trying to determine the cut-off between flesh and magic in various monsters. It was a fascinating subject, what with figuring out how to measure magic levels in a variety of ways for the most accurate readings, then determining how much magic is needed on-average to “substitute” for organs, and skeletons are extra unique because their entire system is basically magic which is highly unusual and very rare--

He could go on.

Anyway.

Souls beat much the same way hearts do, and while the noise is quieter than fleshy-monster heartbeats it’s still there. Edge’s is strong and steady, and Rus is absolutely going to fall asleep right here.

Edge shifts slightly beneath him. “Comfy?”

“Mmmhmmm,” Rus hums back. He sounds half-asleep (and he is) when he makes the monumental effort to add, “you?”

“Yes,” Edge says, and he shifts again. Rus hums once more, this time just a noise of contentment, when Edge rests his skull against Rus’s. Rus has research to do, yeah, but one afternoon off won’t hurt anything by his estimation.


	15. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite sure what I need in the way of warnings up here? There's a knife, bleeding (Red accidentally hurts himself, and I say skeletons bleed magic because why not and I needed something for this prompt to work), and Rus kinda freaks out. I'm very unsure of how to properly tag/warn for this one, so if anybody has any suggestions feel free to comment and let me know, I'll happily update.

Red swears as the knife slips against the wood and bites deep into his knuckle. He drops the knife into his lap on instinct, clutching at his damaged hand.

Woodcarving was Edge’s idea, something to keep him busy or some shit. Red doesn’t know. He got suckered into it because Edge gave him a knife and a block of wood, said “make something” and stormed off. Geez, Red says he’s bored a couple of times, doesn’t listen to anything else that Edge says in terms of finding something to do (notable suggestions included cleaning his room, changing the sheets on his bed, going for a run and, last but not least, cooking) and suddenly the guy loses it.

Eh. It was fun while it lasted.

Skeletons don’t bleed, technically speaking, but sometimes a cut will be deep enough to nick a mana line and then raw magic starts getting everywhere. Red’s done it before, he’ll do it again--he leads a rugged life, what can he say?

This one was a bad cut, deep enough to really sting and his magic is running over his bones and looks alarmingly close to blood thanks to the color of it. Well, not alarming for him. Red’s used to it, it’s his after all, it’s Rus, standing in the doorway staring in horror, who looks alarmed.

Oh yeah. Red should mention he got magic on the blade, and because magic is thicker than blood it has a habit of clinging to whatever it touches. The knife looks about as much like a murder weapons as one could expect, and Red’s sitting there looking like the victim.

Red forgot the dude had issues with knives up until this point. Clearly it extends to blood as well.

“You good?” Red asks gruffly, because that’s about as much as he can help when somebody else is losing their mind over nothing at all and he’s the one in actual pain. He’s still bleeding magic everywhere, after all, When Rus doesn’t respond, only starts shaking, he adds, “keep it together, Rus.”

Rus is not keeping it together. He keeps shaking, hard enough to rattle now, and his eyelights have constricted to mere pinpricks in his sockets. He can’t seem to look away from the knife.

“Edge!” Red shouts. “Come get yer boyfriend!”

Red has to bite back a laugh at how quickly Edge returns, his cheekbones flushed a vivid scarlet. “He’s not my--Rus?”

Rus, to everybody’s surprise, grabs Edge by the front of his shirt and shoves him back, stepping in front of Edge like he’s going to protect him from Red. That honey-gold magic Edge is such a sucker for is starting to burn like fire in Rus’s sockets, smoking and curling the same way Red’s magic does when he’s good and riled up.

“Rus!” Edge snaps, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him off-balance. Rus stumbles only slightly before using magic to center himself, increasing gravity to weigh himself down like he’s bracing for a fight. Red’s starting to think that’s exactly what this soft-bellied version of his brother is doing.

“Don’t even try it kid,” Red warns. He grasps the knife and gets to his feet, the half-carved chunk of wood tumbling to the ground, forgotten. He doubts Rus would use magic to touch the knife, never mind hurt Red, but he’s not taking any chances.

“Get that thing out of here!” Edge snarls, magic of his own sparking in his socket and up along the deep scars through it. Huh. It’s been a while since Edge has been worked up enough to do that. He’s going to be a real bitch to deal with later when the migraine sets in. “Now!”

Red teleports away, bringing the knife with him. He only goes a few blocks, stepping out of the teleport and into some back alleyway with a series of dumpsters. He’s still bleeding magic; the knife feels sticky with it. Grimacing, he lets himself into one of the nearby buildings.

Blue’s workout training studio place (one of these days Red will learn the actual name) is immaculate, as always, and Blue himself is busy training some new Royal Guard recruit. Looks like he’s kicking ass, too, but Red doesn’t have time to creepily stare at the dude and learn his fighting style right now.

The kitchen has cleaning supplies and a hefty first-aid kit. He drops the knife in the sink, ignoring the spatter it creates, and bandages the cut on his hand. Red’s a nice guy and doesn’t want Blue on his ass about leaving “murder weapons” around, so he washes the knife too. He only hesitates a second before putting it away in a drawer. Maybe he should find a hobby that doesn’t involve knives for the foreseeable future.


	16. Cobwebs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring only the briefest mention of cobwebs, because Prompt, and a great deal more of Red and Blue talking about secrets, because Plot.  
Warning for brief mention of child death/violence. Nothing graphic.

Blue’s content to stand a ways behind Red and watch him dust cobwebs with a vengeance. Red knows he’s standing there; he’s very obviously not looking at Blue. It’s very apparent that Red is cleaning out of guilt. It only takes another few minutes of patient watching before he breaks.

“You done being a creep?” Red snaps.

Blue shrugs, unbothered. “Are you?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Red says tonelessly. “Seriously, don’t ya have a hobby?”

“I do, actually,” Blue says thoughtfully. “It’s called ‘get Red to tell me what happened.’ Have you ever heard of it?”

Red groans and swipes the duster halfheartedly at that one cobweb he can’t reach. He misses. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Cut yourself?” Blue asks. “I already know that, you didn’t work hard enough to hide the evidence. Or did you mean scaring my brother?”

“That one,” Red grumbles, avoiding eye contact again. He fidgets with the bandage on his finger, picking at the adhesive until it peels back a little.

Blue waves one hand almost dismissively. “I’d be dusting you if I thought you hurt Papy on purpose, don’t worry.”

Red does not look reassured by that comment. At all.

“Anyway,” Blue says. “What I can’t figure out is why Papy gets so worked up over blood, or something that looks like blood. You might look like my twin, but you’re more like Papy as far as the universes seem to care, so why don’t you enlighten me?”

Skeletons can’t exactly go pale, but Red somehow manages it. “What makes you think I--”

“I know about the Resets,” Blue ruthlessly interrupts, voice flat and cold. “Don’t lie, I hear enough of those from Rus.”

In any other context, Red’s double-take reaction would be hilarious. He rapidly cycles through several emotions, landing on open shock.

“Rus doesn’t know I know, of course. He’s not the only liar in this family,” Blue says bitterly.

“Shit,” Red says, clearly appalled.

“Yeah,” Blue agrees, shaking himself slightly out of dust-filled memories. He doesn’t like to dwell on the number of times he died, even if he’s hazy on the actual number. He had other priorities at the time besides keeping track.

“Not you, shit,” Red snarls. “Me, shit! Does this mean Edge knows about them too?

“You’ll have to ask him,” Blue says callously. He already knows Red never will--he acts too much like Rus for that to ever happen. “Rus needed to believe I was ignorant about the Resets, so I kept quiet. I’m planning to keep it that way--” Red quails beneath the steely Look Blue gives him. “So you can keep your mouth shut, capiche?”

“Nobody believes me when I tell them you ain’t half as sweet and innocent as you pretend,” Red grumbles. “I gotcha, cross my soul, whatever you want.”

“Good,” Blue says. “So what happened that traumatized Papy?”

“Besides losing his brother?” Red snorts, eye-lights ominously flickering to red. “He would have had to fight the kid, as many times as they wanted when they could Reset at will. Little bastard bleeds a lot when you run ‘em through.”

Blue closes his sockets, taking a slow, deep breath. He holds it for several seconds before letting it out all at once. “Thank you for telling me.”

He’s about to head downstairs when Red calls after him, stopping him in his tracks. “Blue?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want Rus to tell ya the truth? About the Resets?”

Blue thinks it over. “Only if it would help him more than lying to me would. Why do you think I lie to him as well?”


	17. Hot Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, two heavy-hitting chapters in a row are hard. Let's unwind with some extra-fluffy goodness.

Edge cautiously slipped out of Rus’s room sometime in the wee hours of the morning, feeling a strange sense of deja vu as he went downstairs.

The migraine had been expected following his little magical temper-tantrum, but that didn’t make it hurt less. Rus had insisted on Edge waiting it out in his room, away from excessive noise and light, and Edge is grateful for that.

Still, coming downstairs to find Rus sleeping on the couch reminds him of the last time this happened, many weeks ago when he and Red were newly arrived and still trying to adjust. He doesn’t hesitate to pull the blanket down off the back of the couch, tucking Rus in, smiling to himself at the memory.

“You did this last time,” Rus mumbles.

Edge has more manners than Red, which is the only reason he doesn’t screech a swear word at the top of his lungs. He’s still plenty surprised, of course, but he just keeps quiet about it. “You were asleep last time, as I recall.”

“Faking it,” Rus says, sitting up and rubbing his sockets. “Feel better?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

“Mmm.” It seems only typical for Rus to avoid answering the question; he might have calmed down quickly enough once Edge got him away from the knife and bled magic, but he was jumpy for the rest of the evening, even after Edge tried to distract him with a walk around the block when Blue got home. “Want some hot cocoa?”

“It’s the middle of the night, Rus,” Edge says exasperatedly. “You should sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Rus echoes, his smile lopsided. “Cocoa’s more important anyway.”

Edge could argue, but he doesn’t want to, not right now. Rus wraps the blanket around his shoulders like a cape and leads the way to the kitchen, pulling out instant cocoa packets from the cabinet. Edge takes over at that point--he’s seen Rus burn water before and he’s not keen on drinking scorched hot chocolate at this hour.

Rus seems happy to let him take over, wandering over to the fridge to paw through it for...something. A midnight snack, perhaps, it wouldn’t surprise him.

“Here we go!” Rus says, pulling out a bottle of whipped cream triumphantly. He begins shaking it enthusiastically. “Can’t have cocoa without whipped cream, can we?”

“We cannot,” Edge says, solemn as a judge. “It’s a crime between the hours of two AM and three, after all.”

Rus begins laughing, but hastily muffles it by dispensing whipped cream into his own mouth.

“Don’t eat it straight out of the can, you heathen, just put it--oomph!”

Edge’s lecture is cut short by a hefty squirt of whipped cream directly into his own mouth, courtesy of the brat trying and failing to contain his giggling. Edge pulls him into a hug, making use of that blanket cape to neatly pin Rus’s arms and take away the whipped cream. “Go sit down, I’ll bring it to you,” Edge says. He doesn’t even think before pressing a brief kiss to Rus’s forehead.

They both freeze.

“Edge?”

Edge swallows nervously. “Yes, Rus?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Rus says, very slowly and deliberately. Edge’s soul feels like it’s about to pound right out of his ribcage. “But I think you just kissed me.”

“Maybe?” Edge says weakly.

Rus hums thoughtfully. Then, before Edge has a chance to recover or prepare, Rus presses a kiss against his cheekbone. “Now we’re even.” Another kiss, gentle as a sigh, in the same spot. “And now I’m winning.”


	18. Fireplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I should include a content warning for mentions of a bomb? It's not really a bomb, nobody is in any danger (seriously, this is G-rated fluff), it's just a minor misunderstanding that's played for laughs.

Rus nearly leaps out of his (nonexistent) skin when Edge asks, “What are you doing?”

“Way to give a man a heart attack,” Rus complains, rubbing at his chest for emphasis.

“We don’t have hearts.”

“Yeah, us skeletons are pretty heartless, and it was heartless of you to scare me like that. Also, I’m making a fire.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Edge sounds genuinely contrite, and Rus relents immediately. “S’okay. You’re a spooky scary skeleton, is all. You really sent a shiver down my spine.”

Edge’s groan of dismay is immediate and comical, making Rus laugh. “I won’t play it!” God, Blue would kill me if I tried, he’s sick of it too.”

“That doesn’t explain the pipe bomb you’ve got next to the fire.”

“Please,” Rus scoffs, holding up a short piece of pipe for emphasis. “This is for aesthetic purposes only.”

“Stop,” Edge says, suddenly stern. Rus stares at him, surprised at the tone of voice. “I put up with a lot of differences between this world and my own. You know that, yes?”

“Yes?” Rus says. It sounds like a question more than a definitive answer.

“I draw the line at you telling me bombs are decorations here. That’s bullshit.”

There’s a beat of dead silence.

Rus bursts into peals of hysterical laughter, crumpling fully to the floor. Edge looks offended.

“I mean it!” he exclaims. “Bombs are not decorations!”

“Papy!” Blue scolds, striding in from the other room. “What on earth are you talking about, saying bombs are decorations?”

“Wait, bombs are decorations?” Rus has no idea where Red came from, but it makes sense this is the part he’d turn up for. His eyelights glitter with excitement. “Hell yeah, this universe is better than I thought!”

“No!” Blue shouts, turning on Red. “No bombs! Bombs are not decorations!”

Red sighs dramatically. “You suck all the fun out of life, baby Blue.”

“Quit calling me that!”

Edge nudges Rus with his foot. Rus, laughing so hard he’s crying and barely making a sound, waves one hand weakly at Edge. That he’s still holding the pipe does not help him calm down. It’s another minute or two before he calms down enough to answer without laughing again.

“S’not a bomb,” he says, gasping for breath. The corners of his mouth twitch, precursor to breaking into laughter yet again. “It’s a copper pipe with a bite of hose in it, it’ll make the fire change color. Here, watch.”

It takes several minutes after the pipe is put into the fire, but soon the flames flicker in abnormal shades. Rus gestures dramatically at the fire. “Ta-da!”

“Meh, pipe bomb would be more fun,” Red says, teleporting away without further comment.

“Don’t burn the house down, please,” Blue says, also leaving.

“I’ll watch him,” Edge offers.

Hell yes, sign Rus up for an impromptu cuddle session. It takes some serious puppy-dog eyes, but Edge grudgingly sits on the floor next to him instead of taking up residence in a nearby chair.

“Tell me how it works,” Edge says.

“The chemical reaction?”

“Yes.”

“Right, can do. So, what’s happening is--”

Edge listens patiently while Rus talks, less mesmerized by the rainbow-like fire and more by the way Rus animatedly explains chemical reactions Edge doesn’t understand, long past the point the fire goes back to normal colors.

Shame. Edge will have to ask him to make another fire at some point and explain it all to him again. He probably missed something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not try this trick indoors, kids, and maybe not at all; you can google ways to make flames change colors, it's easy enough (there's pre-made crystals even! Super easy!), but the hose-in-a-copper-pipe trick can be dangerous because there's no way to know what kind of toxic smoke will be produced by burning the hose. I'm taking advantage of everybody in this story not having lungs (and, you know, the whole "it's a fictional story" thing), but for the rest of us it's a bad idea.


	19. Childhood Photograph

Red had exactly one item with him when he and Edge got pulled through into this universe, and it’s a battered wallet stuffed with several pictures. Much like Edge hangs on to that ratty scarf at all times, Red carried his most treasured possession with him everywhere he went. He’s extraordinarily glad he did, and not only because of the sentimental value the photos carry.

“Rus, c’mere,” Red says. “Got something I want to show you.”

“Show me? I was expecting shovel talk,” Rus says, smiling, but he’s clearly nervous. Whether he’s nervous about what Red wants or nervous about the date he’s going on with Edge in a few minutes, Red doesn’t know. Or care. The only interesting part about this whole date thing is that Rus, somehow, beat Edge getting ready and coming downstairs, but that works for Red.

“Eh, Edge can take care of himself,” Red says. “And this tradition is more my speed.”

Rus watches in bemusement as Red digs out the wallet and begins plucking out pictures, sorting out the best and handing them over.

“Oh my god,” Rus says, eyelights blown wide with delight. He clutches the photographs with both hands, smile wide, shuffling through them quickly. “Oh my freaking god. Oh stars. He’s adorable.”

“Yeah, Edge was a cute babybones,” Red says. His smile isn’t quite so wide, but it’s a great deal more smug. This is way better than shovel talk, especially since nothing he could say would ever be half as good as the lecture Blue gave Edge about treating Rus right. Not like Edge needed to hear it, he’s head over heels for Rus already, but still. Red knows where his strengths lie, and it’s not in threatening his brother’s date for Edge’s honor or whatever; it’s in embarrassing Edge.

“I didn’t know you had these!”

“Had what?” Edge asks curiously, hustling down the stairs even as he finishes tucking in his shirt. If Red had to guess, the freaking diva was trying on a bunch of shirts to determine which one looked the nicest. “Rus, are you ready to go?”

“Baby pictures!” Rus squeals. He vanishes into a teleport, leaving Edge and Red alone in the hallway, but Red can hear his voice in the kitchen. “Blue, look at these!”

Edge scrambles after Rus, shouting, “give me those! How the hell did you get them, we’re in the wrong universe!”

Red listens to Blue make appreciative cooing noises, the sound of Edge chasing Rus around the kitchen, and--just like predicted--Rus teleports back to Red’s side.

“Gotta go,” Rus says, handing the pictures back.

“Same,” Red says, catching sight of Edge rounding the corner. Yikes, he sure looks like he's on the warpath. “Have fun kids.”

Without waiting for a reply, Red steps into a teleport. With any luck, taking Rus out tonight will prove enough of a distraction Edge will forget about killing him later.

Red keeps quiet as he steps out of the teleport and into the kitchen. Blue immediately catches sight of him and smiles, also keeping quiet. Yeah, Blue knows what’s up. It isn’t until both Edge and Rus are gone that he says, “you want to see Rus’s baby photos?”

“Of freaking course.” Red drops into one of the kitchen chairs, pulling out more photos for this little show and tell session they’re about to have. “You’ll have to show a few to my bro later, that’ll keep things fair.”

There’s a deviousness to Blue’s expression that Red genuinely appreciates. “I know just the ones.”


	20. Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Red, Blue, and an inexcusable number of fish puns.

“Red,” Blue says, very calm. He has to be calm, because otherwise he will snap and go insane as well. “I know it’s a full moon, but that’s no excuse to lose your mind like this.”

“There’s no freaking way you won again!” Red shouts, gesturing wildly. “How do you do it? How?!”

Blue gathers up the playing cards, neatly shuffling them together. “It’s simple, I’m better at cheating than you.”

“I refuse to be disrespected in my own home,” Red snaps, snatching the deck from Blue’s hands to start dealing.

Blue does not point out that this is his house, not Red’s, and simply lets Red deal. What should have been a simple bet, something to keep the two of them busy while Rus and Edge are out on their date, had turned into multiple card games to determine who’s better at cheating. Thus far, no matter which game they play, Blue’s come out on top.

“What are we playing this time?” Blue asks.

“Go Fish.”

“Oh, this will be easy” Blue says cheerfully, definitely cocky and not trying to hide it. He’s earned it. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Red snorts. “Nice one.”

“Nice what?”

“The pun, dumbass.”

“I didn’t--” Blue stops. Thinks about what he said. “Oh, god, _no_. Papy’s ruined my sense of humor.”

Red cackles. “_Whale_, it was a good one.”

“Don’t.”

“What, don’t like puns? I tell ‘em just for the _halibut_.”

“Oh my god.”

“I just think they’re _reel_ clever, pretty so_fish_ticated stuff. I _dolphin_ately like ‘em, it seems _fishy_ you don’t. Hey, don’t give me that look, _salmon_ had to say it. Have I ever told you these _kraken_ me up? Because they _eel_y do.”

The full moon must be making Blue a bit mad, too. Otherwise he would never rise to the bait like this, look Red dead in the eye, and say, “You know what? Those puns are a pile of _carp_, just a _turtle_ disaster. You _betta_ believe I _cod_ do better.”

They needed a new game to play anyway.


	21. Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was supposed to be "Bara" but I have Plot Magic to work and that prompt really didn't work for me so I made my own.

“Rus?” Edge calls out from the top of the basement stairs. “What are you doing down there?”

“Don’t come--ow! Stop that you little shit!--don’t come down!” Rus shouts back.

Edge rolls his eyes, already thumping down the stairs. If he’s loud and obvious about going into the basement, there’s a chance Rus will pull himself together a bit and be able to answer some questions by the time Edge reaches him. Sometimes Rus is so absorbed in his work it doesn’t matter, but Edge thinks it’ll work today.

“I said don’t come down!” Rus shouts, and Edge can hear him scrambling around like mad. “Stop that, just sit still, you--!”

Edge reaches the bottom of the stairs and sees Rus standing at his desk, apparently wrestling with something on the desk. Rus glances over his shoulder, clearly alarmed, and promptly loses whatever fights he’s in.

That’s about all Edge can tell before a massive black cat rockets off the table and launches itself straight at Edge, yowling loudly.

Doomfanger is no small cat, and when she collides with Edge’s ankles in an insistent “pick me up and pet me now” kind of way he staggers back a step. Edge had forgotten how big she was--it’s been a long, long time since he’s seen her.

The noise Edge makes is incoherent, a strangled syllable of raw emotion before he’s too choked up to speak. Rus collapses with a groan into the nearest chair when Edge picks up his cat, burying his face in her long, dark fur. She’s purring loudly.

“Well, there goes my surprise,” Rus sighs. He leans fully back in the chair, letting his head hang over the back. “I can keep all my work secret for weeks and weeks but once the cat actually turns up I last all of thirty seconds--oomph!”

Rus flails wildly into an upright position when Edge sits in his lap, surprised, and then freezes when Edge presses fully against his chest. Doomfanger tolerates being squashed with surprising grace, only pausing to hiss at Rus once before resuming her purring. Edge nestles his head beneath Rus’s chin, sockets squeezed shut as he wrestles with the tidal wave of emotion swamping his system. He’s still too overcome to speak--and there’s nothing he could say to express how grateful he is to Rus for doing whatever he did to get Doomy back-- but he hopes Rus gets the message anyway.


	22. Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case anybody is curious, Blokus is a strategy game for up to 4 players that involves placing oddly-shaped pieces on a board. Each piece must touch another of the same color, but only at the corners. The goal is to put all your pieces on the board and block your opponents from doing the same--the game ends when no more pieces can be placed. Amazon link to the game below.
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/Mattel-Games-R1983-Blokus-Exclusive/dp/B00FBWBM3G/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=blokus&qid=1571874840&sr=8-3&th=1

Rus looks sadly at the game in front of him. He’s pretty close to a genius, okay. There isn’t a math problem he can’t solve if he puts his mind to it, and he knows a lot of stuff. Random stuff, sure, and most of it is not applicable to him or his life in any way, but still. He’s a smart cookie.

The problem is, Blue’s too competitive, which means Rus tends to lose all the time whenever he plays with his brother.

At the very least he’s not alone in losing this time. No, Red and Edge are playing as well, because why not make this stupid game more difficult with more players.

He’s not sure why Red and Blue agreed to this game and _only_ this game--Rus wanted to play Go Fish because there would be at least a _chance_ luck would be on his side and he might win, but both Red and Blue shot that idea down in an instant--but here they are instead, suffering through round after round of Blokus.

At least it’s faster than Monopoly, but then again Rus is pretty sure playing Monopoly would result in bloodshed.

“You’re out already?” Edge asks, sympathetic. He’s stroking Doomfanger, who is parked in his lap, in exactly the same manner Rus would expect from a supervillain. He might really be a supervillain, actually; he’s the reason Rus is out of the game so early this time around.

“It’s okay,” Rus says mournfully. The betrayal stings but he can't bring himself to be truly upset about it, mostly because he’s the least competitive person at this table and he’s used to losing. Also, Edge wanted to play Risk at first and Rus sabotaged his attempts to bring it up. It’s only fair.

“Hey, we picked a game nobody can cheat at!” Red protests. “It’s way better than cards!”

There’s a whole story behind those two statements Rus decides he doesn’t want to know. With a sigh, he gets to his feet. From experience he knows these three will be at it for a while longer yet; Red and Edge are as competitive as Blue.

“I bought honey for you,” Blue says, never taking his eyes off the board. “Help yourself.”

Well. Free reign on the honey. That’s an acceptable consolation prize in Rus’s book any day.


	23. Bad Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I'm as surprised as Red at this development, yet here we are going along with it anyway.

Red is watching Blue. It’s becoming a bit of a habit.

It’s not like Red has anything better to do, okay? Edge has his old lady hobby, complete with cat (and Red will have to remember to kick Rus in the tailbone for bringing that Awful Cat into this universe without warning, Red nearly had a heart attack when he woke up to that hairy demon sitting at the foot of his bed) and the last time Red tried to pick up a hobby he ruined everybody’s day.

The trouble is, Blue is very aware he’s being watched and he seems surprisingly okay with it.

Actually, now that Red stops and thinks about it, he might be showing off.

They are both at Blue’s workout training studio place (Red still hasn’t learned the name) and, besides the two of them, the place is empty. Red has been lurking for an hour, give or take, and for the last thirty minutes he’s been staring at Blue while he spars against a practice dummy.

It’s oddly mesmerizing. Blue’s movements are precise yet fluid, each attack gracefully shifting into the next. Red can appreciate a good attack, and the longer he watches the better Blue seems to do. He’s moving faster, striking harder, his bone attack patterns becoming more elaborate and advanced--

Very abruptly Red realizes that at some point he went from observation to admiration, no longer gaining useful info so much as just appreciating Blue’s moves. He gives himself a firm shake and goes back to staring.

Blue’s smirking.

Red decides to ignore that.

Focus. Attacks. Blue uses several complex patterns, but they are variations on classic attack styles Red’s heard of before. He’s just never seen them combined like this, it’s genius in its own right, if Blue was facing off against an opponent they wouldn’t last more than a few seconds--

Blue smoothly comes to a halt. He’s staring at Red and looks awfully smug about something.

“Like what you see?” he asks, arching one brow bone.

_That_ wasn’t what Red was expecting. At all.

He flounders for an answer before, very maturely, flipping Blue off and teleporting outside for some fresh air. His face feels oddly hot. He better not be blushing, damn it, there’s nothing to blush over!

Unbidden, Red thinks about all the other times he’s followed Blue to his work, standing around and just watching while Blue trains other monsters or just practices on his own. More than once Blue has made comments to him, generally offers to spar with him if Red wanted, but certainly nothing along the lines of today’s little remark. Where the hell had _that_ come from?

“Ready to go?”

Red spins around to see Blue standing behind him, still smiling. “What?” Red asks.

“It’s time to go home,” Blue says. Red really wishes he knew what that smile meant. It’s going to drive him nuts. “I know you typically walk home with me from a distance, but you can walk with me tonight if you want, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Blue doesn’t wait for an answer, just starts walking away. Red stares after him. It’s bad enough that his habit of following Blue around has put him in this mess, now Blue thinks Red habitually walks him home at night?

“Are you coming?” Blue shouts back, already at the end of the block.

To hell with it. Red teleports down the block, falling into step next to Blue without a word. What’s one more bad habit?


	24. Working the Night Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Red, Blue, and even more puns than the last time these two shared a chapter.

Every time Blue works a night shift, Red turns up to walk home with him. Blue tries to keep his comments about this to a minimum; Red is something of an emotional cactus and doesn’t react well to obvious things being pointed out to him.

Blue’s not all that great at keeping his comments to himself.

“Is that a new shirt?” he asks, coming to a dead stop the second he sees Red.

“What’s it to you?” Red snaps, irritably stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. He’s already scowling. This isn’t good.

“Nothing!” Blue blurts out. Red’s scowl deepens. Dammit! “I mean, it just looks nice is all!”

Red looks away, his scowl softening. “Whatever. Are we going to stand here all night or what?”

Blue wordlessly starts walking, stealing glances at Red every couple of steps. Has Red ever worn a button-up shirt before? Blue doesn’t think so. Did anybody at home see Red before he left? Should Blue sneak a picture?

“For star’s sake, Blue,” Red hisses, suddenly seizing him by the hand and yanking him across the sidewalk. “Put yer eyes back in yer skull before you walk into a pole!”

“We don’t have eyes,” Blue replies automatically.

Red snorts. “Careful, you’ll make a _spectacle_ of yourself if you keep that up.”

Blue coughs and looks away. Nope. He’s not doing this again.

“What’s the matter? Don’t get all _eye_ and mighty on me, I know you like puns!”

“Your eye puns are bad,” Blue replies. He’s not even going to pretend he’s not enjoying himself. “But mine are _cornea_.”

He’s never seen Red’s eyelights brighten that quickly. “There’s a _kernel_ of truth to that, but good puns take _corn_centration, and mine are unmista_co_bly good.”

“I think they are a_maize_ing.”

It’s pushing dangerously close to pointing out what’s obviously going on here. Red must know that to some degree, nothing else would explain the faint dusting of red high on his cheekbones. Puns, however, seem to be a good way for Red to acknowledge the obvious while keeping a safe distance; otherwise, Blue thinks Red would never reply, “_shucks_, baby Blue, that’s music to my _ears_, but I bet you can’t do _butte_r than that.”

“How _dairy_ you say that! I know some that are sure to a_moo_se you, I bet you’ve never even _herd_ them before!”

Despite Blue’s claims, it seems Red has, in fact, heard these puns before. Still, he doesn’t seem to mind too much. And if he sets Blue up for a series of good puns later...well, both of them are content to just let it happen and pretend they’re just smiling at the puns and nothing else.


	25. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge has no idea what he just walked into

Edge is not sure what to make of the sight of Red holding flowers in the front yard by Blue’s fake tombstone decoration, with Blue himself lying facedown on the ground.

“Red?” Edge calls out, cautious. The unspoken question he’s asking is something along the lines of, “what the actual hell is going on?”

“S’up bro,” Red said, sounding inordinately proud of himself. Blue doesn’t move. “We’re holding a funeral for...what was it again, baby Blue?”

“Me,” Blue replies, voice muffled.

“Ah, yes” Red repeats, clearly relishing the taste of victory. “For Blue.”

“Because…?” Edge trails off, hoping somebody will answer his unasked question.

“He had to admit I was better at something than him,” Red says with a shrug that’s almost careless. Edge does not believe for one second that shrug was anything other than carefully calculated. “He couldn’t take the _heat_, it was a bit _match_. I _roasted_ him, you see. I offered to sprinkle his _ashes_ on something he loved, but--”

“I get the picture,” Edge says, cutting Red off before things got even more out of hand. “What’s with the flowers?”

“These?” Red says, holding up the bouquet. “These are for my best _bud_’s funeral here. _Iris_ it wasn’t true, but I’m not _pollen_ your leg, I really _rose_ to the occasion for this one. I’ll think of him every_daisy_.”

“Please stop,” Edge says, pained.

Red does stop the onslaught of puns, the smug bastard, but only long enough to place the flowers on Blue’s impromptu grave. “A _peony_ for your final thoughts, Blue.”

“I should have picked a different category, you know too many food-based puns,” Blue says, grabbing the flowers before rolling over. He glares resentfully up at Red, although the effect is ruined by the cheerful bouquet. “I’ll get you next time.”

“You’ve already lost babe, no coming back from that,” Red teases.

Edge arches a brow bone. “Babe?” he repeats, slowly and deliberately.

Red turn, well, red. “Shut up!” he snarls, teleporting away before anybody can say anything else.

Blue sighs and sits up, still holding his flowers. “There goes my chance to make any cute puns in return, thanks Edge.”

“Uh,” Edge says, very intelligently. He has no idea what's going on. He doesn't think he wants to know, either, primarily because he has a sneaking suspicion this is Red and Blue's form of flirting (which, if it is,yikes, he sure hopes he and Rus aren't this bad in their own sappy way). "Sorry?”

“Don’t be, puns are fun and all, but the plan was to lure him into a false sense of security." Blue gets to his feet, dusting himself off. He's still holding the flowers. "I’ll get him tomorrow, I’m going to switch to bad pick up lines."


	26. Candy

Rus can not make a decision.

There is an entire _wall_ of candy to select from, bags upon bags of it, and Rus is only allowed a single bag.

“Two bags?” Rus pleads, turning his puppy-dog eyes on Blue.

Blue, sadly, is far more immune to puppy-dog eyes than Edge is. He remains unmoved, looking mildly irritated as he leans against the shopping cart full of groceries. “You can have one, Rus, it’s an entire bag of candy! I already know you won’t share it, and it’ll be gone by Halloween anyway!”

Rus can’t really deny that; he has a sweet tooth and everybody knows it. He gestures dramatically to the wall of candy. “But look how many options there are! I can’t choose!”

“I’ll pick for you,” Blue says, and even though it might sound helpful Rus knows it’s a threat. Blue will pick a bag at random--Rus has seen it before-- and if Rus complains about whatever he picked, Blue will take the entire bag to his work and Rus won’t get any. It’s a cruel world.

“Hnnnnggg,” Rus says, some noise between a whine and a groan of dismay. Blue already has candy stashed at the house somewhere for the trick-or-treaters on Halloween, and knowing his brother he bought too much and won’t give it all away. But what candy did he get? Rus will get the excess, he always does, it’s the price Blue pays to keep Rus from going out trick-or-treating himself, but Rus doesn’t want to pick a bag of candy that Blue already bought.

“What does Edge like?” Blue prompts.

Rus freezes, then turns to his brother in dismay. “Bro, please,” he begs. “You’re killing me. I can only get one bag of candy, I can’t decide what I want _for myself_, and now you want me to not only share my candy but pick a kind Edge likes? Does Edge even eat candy? I don’t even know his favorite color!”

"I can guess his favorite color,” Blue mutters, almost low enough Rus can’t hear him. Then, louder, “just pick one already, Rus, and after Halloween we can come back and get some more on discount.”

Oh, now that’s even _worse_. What candy is least likely to be sold out by then? Will the store get another shipment in, thus giving Rus more options for discount candy, or should he decide based on current stock levels? Rus hesitates, doing mental math as fast as he can, but it still takes too long.

Blue snatches the nearest bag off the shelf and starts pushing the grocery cart away. “We’re getting this one!”

“Wait, what’d you pick?” Rus demands, watching Blue walk away. Maybe he can narrow his choice down by what he doesn’t want--Blue can even help! “Tell me what you picked! Blue? Wait up! Tell me what you picked!”


	27. Sorry, We're Closed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red is not sorry. Not at all.

Blue is late getting out of work. Red waits irritably on the sidewalk for ten minutes, unwilling to interrupt if he’s simply run over with his last appointment, before teleporting into the building in frustration. “Alright, what’s the holdup?”

Blue shoots him a look that very distinctly says “save me.” He’s talking to two strangers, definitely not some of his normal trainees, and Red immediately classifies them as assholes.

“Who are you?” One of them asks, sounding incredibly snobby. That’s Asshole One, then.“Are you a recruit too?”

“He can’t be a recruit, look at him!” Asshole Two says, gesturing to Red. More specifically, to Red’s scars. “Buddy, you know you are supposed to avoid getting hit, right?”

If Red had blood vessels, he’d have blown one by now. Blue shoots him an apologetic look before turning back to the Assholes. “I’d be happy to work with you as potential recruits for the Guard, but you have to schedule an appointment so I can perform an assessment of your current skill level.”

“Can’t you just skip the assessment and sign off on our paperwork?” Asshole One says, pushing a stack of paperwork into Blue’s hands. “It’s the last step before we’re hired, man, come on, everybody knows the assessment is just a formality.”

“The place is closed, buddy,” Red snarls, teleporting to Blue’s side. He takes the paperwork from Blue and shoves it back at Asshole One. “You heard Blue, make a goddamn appointment and come back later.”

“You can’t talk to us like that, we’re Royal Guards and--”

Asshole One never finishes his sentence, because Blue grabs the paperwork back and starts writing on it. Red stares at him, aghast, as Blue politely gives the paperwork back. “There. Now please leave, I’m afraid we’re closed.”

The Assholes leave, grumbling to themselves, leaving just Red and Blue alone. Blue sighs in relief as the door shuts behind them. “Thank the stars. I thought they’d never--”

“What the hell were you thinking, signing off on those asshats?” Red demands. “They shouldn’t be in the goddamn guard! You didn’t even assess them!”

Blue holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Red, it’s okay, I--”

“It’s not okay! Those assholes are supposed to protect monsters, and all I’ve seen them do is push you around! Now I’ve got to find them and teach them a lesson, first for disrespecting you, then again for disrespecting what it means to be a Guard, and I--”

“Red!” Blue shouts, grabbing Red by the shoulders and giving him a shake. “Stop! I didn’t sign off on them!”

Red stares blankly at Blue. Idly, he wonders when he started trusting Blue enough to let him into his personal space without thinking about it, or even tensing up. “I literally just saw you sign the paperwork, Blue.”

“You did,” Blue says, reassuring Red that he is not losing his goddamn mind. “But there are several different classifications I can put for new recruits, including one that’s a recommendation for immediate dismissal.”

Oh.

“So you just fired them,” Red says, grinning. “Nice.”

Blue, to Red’s surprised delight, blushes. “I didn’t fire them! I assessed them and classified them accordingly!”

“And that classification is, fire them,” Red says, grin widening.

“It’s up to the Captain whether or not to act on my recommendation,” Blue says primly. His cheekbones are still dusted blue. “Can we talk about something else? Here, let me lock up and we can go.”

“Eh, fine,” Red says, trailing behind Blue as he finishes locking the place up. He can afford to give up on needling Blue over this one, at least for tonight. Once they’re outside, he drapes an arm across Blue’s shoulders and steers him in the opposite direction of home. “This way.”

“Home’s the other way,” Blue says, because Blue is predictable like that.

“Yeah, and dinner is this way. Come on, we’re gonna be late. I made a reservation and everything, you can thank me later.”


	28. Sunset

Blue can’t technically see the sunset from the back steps, but he can see the colors cast by it, and that’s good enough for him. Edge and Rus are out on a date and Red is--

“You got a sec?”

Right next to him, apparently. Blue has lots of practice at not jumping out of his skin from Red appearing at his side without warning; Rus, at least, usually pops up a few feet away and walks closer. “What do you need?”

Red settles on the step next to Blue, bouncing one leg the second he’s sitting, fidgeting with his fingers. “How many times did you go through the Resets?”

“Oh,” Blue says, thrown. He wasn’t expecting that at all. “A few dozen times, maybe? I didn’t count.”

For a few long seconds, Red’s quiet. “How often do you think about them?”

“Not very, if I can help it,” Blue replies, brow furrowing as he thinks. “Rus and the Human don’t talk since getting to the Surface this time; that makes it easier.”

“This time?”

Shit. Blue didn’t mean to let that slip, but now it’s too late and he’s not going to start lying to Red. It’s bad enough he has to avoid the truth with Rus. “This is the third time we’ve been on the Surface.”

Red’s looking at him, but Blue can’t look back. He studies the ground instead. Eventually, Red asks, “how do you know this time it’ll stick?”

Blue was afraid of that question. He doesn’t want to answer it--except for the part of him that craves honesty on this subject, craves the chance to talk about it and not cause more harm. Red gets it. Red would understand. “I...did something I’m not proud of,” he says, voice small. For all his desire to tell the truth, he can’t bring himself to say more than thought, the words lodged in his throat, choking him into silence.

He can feel Red studying him, feel a faint prickle up his spine. The memory feels heavier all of a sudden, and the sound of a child’s frightened screams and pleads for mercy fill Blue’s skull. He can feel the weight of a bone attack in his hands even though they are empty. He shivers.

Red’s voice startles him out of his thoughts. “You know, back where I’m from, I worked as the Judge.”

Blue waits.

“It’s a shit job back home, lotta people with a lotta sins, and my king was a paranoid bastard about every one of them. Punished a lot of people, even people who only acted like they did out of self defense.”

Blue has an idea of what’s about to come. Rus, another Judge, has never turned his Judgement against Blue (has never had a reason to, that Rus knows of)--but Blue knows how a Judgement works. He won’t brace himself for it. He knows he deserves one.

Red leans back on the step, propping himself up on his elbows. He squints up at the fading colors from the sunset. “Dunno how it all works here, but if I learned one thing, it’s that sometimes the past needs to be left in the past. No point dragging it up when it’s never going to happen again, you know?”

The memory is still there, waiting for Blue to think about. It won’t ever go away, he knows that--but the weight of it suddenly feels marginally lighter. Deciding not to pass Judgement isn’t the same thing as being Forgiven, but it’s enough for now.

“Anyway,” Red says. “I was thinking about how long it would’ve taken us to get to the Surface if we weren’t here. Guess it doesn’t matter anymore, since we’re not going back.”

“I guess it doesn’t.”

“Yeah.” Red changes the subject fast enough to give Blue whiplash. “_Water_ you say to Go Fish? I’ve got some _fin_tastic new puns for you.”

The end of Red’s sentence lifts into a wheedling whine, like he’s going to entice Blue in with the offer of even more puns. Blue can’t help but smile a little. “I’m _hooked_, that sounds _reel_y fun right about now.”

Red teleports inside, because he never misses an opportunity to abuse the laws of physics, and Blue glances one last time at the sky. It’s just barely dark, now--he can only see a single star.

It might be childish, but before he goes inside, Blue makes a wish. It can’t hurt.


	29. On the Surface

One problem with being on the Surface, Edge is coming to realize, is there are more things up here that set off his migraines.

All Edge really knows about his migraines is they started after his eye socket got hurt, but they were far and few between Underground and were often triggered by using too much magic at once. On the Surface, things are very different.

This one had no clear trigger. It’s in the early stages yet, a dull throb that’s getting stronger even though Edge is already lying down on the couch, eyes closed, trying to head off the worst of it.

“Edge?” Rus asks, voice soft.

Edge turns his skull slightly towards Rus’s voice, all the indication he’s willing to give he’s listening.

“Do you want to lie down in my room instead?”

Edge nods minutely, reluctantly prying his sockets open. Even just that small amount of light hurts, though, and he squeezes his sockets shut again. Nope.

“Let me,” Rus says, gently taking him by the arm. Edge allows Rus to help him up and then guide him up the stairs and into his room. “Here we go, lay down.”

Edge gropes blindly for the bed and, upon finding it right in front of him, gratefully crawls into it and buries his face in Rus’s pillow. It smells like him, which is a small comfort.

“Can I try a bit of healing magic on you?”

Edge didn’t even know Rus could use healing magic, it’s not an easy skill to learn.He manages a thumbs-up to indicate he’s willing to try. Seconds later, Rus’s hands settle on his skull. Healing magic, pleasantly warm, flows into Edge’s head.

The pain dulls almost immediately, causing Edge to groan in appreciation. He tries opening his eyes but even the dim light peeking through Rus’s drawn curtains still hurts to look at. Guess it isn’t a perfect cure.

“Better?”

“Mmm,” Edge hums. He feels pleasantly drowsy now.

“Still sensitive?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I don’t think I can fix that. Get some rest, I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

The room is blessedly dark and quiet after Rus leaves, and with only the odd, lingering throb to remind him that the migraine is not gone yet, Edge sleeps.


	30. Face Paint

Rus squirms slightly at the sensation of the paintbrush dragging across his face, twitching ticklishly as it passes beneath one eye socket.

“Hold still,” Edge says, exasperated. “You’re almost done.”

“It tickles!”

“So I’ve heard,” Edge replies, dry as a desert. It’s true; Rus has said the same thing dozens of times already tonight. Apparently, according to some skeletons (*cough* Blue and Edge *cough*) his “This is my Halloween Costume” hoodie did not, in fact, count as a costume; When Rus refused to give up the hoodie, Edge offered to paint his face with the bright, colorful decorations typically found on sugar skulls as a compromise. For only having to sit still, this is a more involved process than Rus expected, but Edge has been relatively patient with him all evening. “The more you move the longer this takes.”

Rus sighs and goes still yet again, staring up at the ceiling as Edge begins meticulously touching-up his work. Every once in a while he glances back down, sneaking a glance at Edge’s oh-so-serious face as he paints, before looking away again while suppressing a smile. Edge is already in costume--a devil, complete with horns, and he looks so good in it it’s downright _sinful_\--and Rus has his work cutout for him when it comes to keeping his jokes to himself.

“You’re smiling.” Edge does not, in fact, sound upset with the fact Rus can’t keep a neutral face while Edge works.

“Am not.” Rus is definitely smiling.

“I’m two inches away from your face, you’re smiling.”

“You look so serious, is all.”

“I want it to look good for you.”

Edge’s sincerity makes a broad smile break out on Rus’s face, and he narrowly avoids giggling when Edge makes a noise of exasperation almost immediately--Rus smiled at the same time Edge tried to resume painting, resulting in the paintbrush dragging across the still-damp paint and smudging it. “Hold still! I’m almost done!”

“I can’t! You were being cute!”

Edge’s cheeks go a very delicate shade of red. It’s a good look on him. “Close your eyes and stay still,” he orders.

Rus does so willingly, still smiling. “Anything for you, dear,” he teases gently.

“Careful what deals you make with me,” Edge says, a promise in his voice, and Rus has no way to prepare himself before Edge presses a gentle kiss to Rus’s neck.

Well, Rus was planning on making another smart remark in return, but now he’s well and truly distracted. It doesn’t help that Edge kisses his throat again--not that Rus is complaining about that--a moment later..“Keep still” Edge reminds him. He sounds remarkably unaffected.

“Okay,” Rus manages to say.

Edge makes a humming noise, pleased, and Rus feels him draw away. “I’ll be back in a minute, I need a rag to wipe away the part you smudged. Do you want anything?”

_You_.

“I’m all set,” Rus says. He doesn’t dare open his eyes. If anything, he squeezes them shut a little tighter; he can’t give in to temptation if he can’t see it--and Edge has decided to personify temptation in more ways than one tonight.


	31. Halloween

Red finds Blue sitting on the back step, glass of wine in hand, not too long before the trick-or-treaters are going to start showing up. “Having fun?”

Blue smiles up at Red, which makes Red’s soul do something funny that Red won’t admit. “A bit. I haven’t had a chance to relax in a while. Care to join?”

“Would have thought you’d be waiting for the kids to show up,” Red says, settling down onto the step and nudging Blue with his shoulder.

Blue leans against him, casual and unconcerned about this invasion of space, and Red lets him. “There’s still time. I’ll go in soon. Where’s your costume?”

“Eh,” Red says. “Don’t need one. I’m going to sit out front by the tombstones and scare some kids, gotta blend in with the environment. Where’s yours?”

“Inside. I’m going to be a wizard this year.”

“Cool. I’ll be the dead body, you be the necromancer, it’ll all work out.”

Blue goes quiet. Then, voice tight with suppressed laughter, says, “I didn’t think we were doing couples costumes this year, but I’m happy to be your other half.”

Red groans. “Please. Not again with the pickup lines. It was bad enough when we were at dinner, everybody thought I was on the world’s worst date.”

Blue ignores him. “It’s scary how good we’ll look together.”

“Blue. Baby. Please.”

“Or you could be a ghost? You already haunt my dreams.”

“Is this what it’s like to listen to me pun? If so, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Blue laughs. “I like it. You’re _bewitching_. Talking to you makes me feel like I’m under a _spell_.”

“How dare you pun in the middle of a pickup line. I’m offended. Halloween is cancelled.”

Blue laughs even harder at that. “Okay, okay, just one more?”

Red lets out an aggrieved sigh. “Fine. Make it good.”

“I went trick-or-treating earlier and I didn’t get any Hershey’s. Can you share some kisses?”

There are a few seconds of silence.

“Okay." Red can't help smiling. "That was a good one. You can get a _treat_ for that _trick_.”


End file.
